


A New Player

by orphan_account



Series: Sister Mine [4]
Category: Enola Holmes Series - Nancy Springer, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 07:55:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1932936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enola walks into some trouble, Mycroft and Lestrade have a tiff, and Team Sherlolly look after Baby Watson</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Enola Song:
> 
> Help Me! Help Me by Lucy Schartz 
> 
>  
> 
> Sherlock Song:
> 
> Red Robin-Hood by Brooke Waggoner
> 
>  
> 
> Mycroft Song:
> 
> Honey by Mindy Gledhill
> 
>  
> 
> Molly Song:
> 
> Don't Call Me Sweetheart by Emily Brown
> 
>  
> 
> Lestrade Song:
> 
> Devil On My Shoulder by Orla Gartland

6 months.

6 months of ducking round corners whenever her brother was in the building, 6 months of dodging questions about family life, about anything other than how her day was. 6 months of wigs, and contact lenses, and industrial strength make up. 6 months of hiding.

She could have taken 6 more. She would have liked six more. Maybe another year or two. 

It had been going really well. Ragostin was still taking credit, which was good, Lestrade hadn’t tried to introduce her to Sherlock Holmes, and she’d heard through the grape vine that Mycroft wasn’t looking for her anymore. Her dog was lovely. She sometimes drew during breaks or time off.

Things had fallen into a rhythm, a pattern, something monotonous, continuous, something like life. 

She’d gotten back in touch with Cecily, she was starting university soon, they were maybe going to share a flat, thing were going so well.

But she had to take that case, didn’t she? She had to go and fuck everything up.

************************************************************************

“I can’t believe she’s almost six months old!” Molly said, passing him a mug of tea.

“Hmm.”

“Sherlock?” she asked, looking at him worriedly.

“What?” he started, 

“Is there something wrong?”

“No. Nothing wrong. Nothing at all.”

“Sherlock.” She said, no nonsense (Sometimes he wished for pre-fall Molly, but then he took it back, Molly with a spine was far sexier than anything else in the universe)

He sighed. “My sister’s been missing for six months now. She could be dead, for all we know.”

“And we still haven’t found Moriarty.”

Molly nodded, taking his hand, sending shivers through him. 

“Everything’s going to be okay, Sherlock. Your sister can look after herself, and Moriarty will mess up at some point. He always does. He’ll get bored.”

He smiled, “We’d better get going. Can’t keep the Watson’s waiting.”

************************************************************************

“I can’t believe you haven’t introduced her to Sherlock, yet. They’d be a right team!”

“Yeah. They would.” Lestrade says, “I’m just thinking, they could look for Moriarty together. They’d solve so many crimes the criminals would be afraid t commit them.”

Donavon laughs, and looks to the door. Vi was always lurking about the break room, eavesdropping. No one minded, so long as she kept tracking down missing persons.

“You know Sherlock’s got a missing sister, don’t you?”

Lestrade rolls his eyes, “Would you stop setting me against the smart people, Donavon?”

She scoffs, “She fits the description!”

“She’s red head!”

“No one’s hair is that colour, Lestrade, you know it!”  
“I’ll look into it, alright? Now, piss off, I have to check on Team Sociopath. They’re looking after Olivia today.”

“Thanks.” She nods, and leaves.

************************************************************************

“Alright, you’ve got our numbers, and our emails, if you need anything-“

“Do we need to do this every time we look after her? We’ll be fine, Mary, go away.”

“Sherlock, be nice,” Molly says, bouncing Olivia on her hip, “We’ll be fine. Go.”

Mary smiles, pulls John to the front door, and shouts, “Don’t you dare set fire to anything, Sherlock Holmes!”

************************************************************************

“You need to cut your fringe. It’s getting in your eyes.”

“Only cause I straightened it today. Usually it’s not this long.”

“I can’t believe your wearing a shirt that says, “Down to Fiesta” on it. 

“I did my makeup all nice today. Look at my wings.”

“Sharp enough to cut a man, truly.”

They stood in front of Lestrade’s office.

“Why does he want to see you, Vi?”

“Dunno.” Liar, you know exactly why.

“You haven’t done something really bad again, have you?”

“I only punched that guy in the genitals, Ragostin, honestly.”

Her elder rolls her eyes, before Donavon opens the door.

“Go on in.”

Her eyes flit over Enola’s form, trying to find something that suggests fraud, before walking to her desk and sitting down.

************************************************************************

“Are you calling me a liar, Lestrade?” Her voice shakes. Pink and white nails pick at a scab on her knuckles. 

“No, no, of course not!” Lestrade sighs, “Ragostin, you can go. I need to talk to Vi.”

The door closes behind her. All alone on the front lines.

“Vi, when Donavon told me to question you, I didn’t think it was anything that mattered. But when I actually looked into it- there are no records of you before the day before Enola Holmes went missing.”

She looks off to side, Things were going so well.

“It explains how you know about Mycroft, how you’re so intelligent. Just as intelligent as him, in fact, more so.”

Donotcrydonotcry.

“Look at me, Vi.”

She can’t.

“No one’s going to press charges. Assuming a false identity isn’t technically a crime. Police officers do it all the time.”

“They aren’t going to let me stay here.” She says, breaking out in sobs.

“Hey,” Lestrade says, standing, walking around the desk, and placing a hand on her shoulder.   
“I’ll do all I can to make sure you don’t go anywhere. We need you around.”

“You can’t tell Mycroft!” Enola Holmes says, pleading.

Lestrade looks torn. “I have to, Vi. You know I have to.”

“You don’t.”

“I do.” He looks as if he’s going to regret what he’s about to say, “But if you leave and are never seen again, that’s not really my fault, is it?”

Enola Holmes smiles, stands, waves, and steps out of Gregory Lestrade’s life for the foreseeable future.

************************************************************************

It took an hour to pack everything she needed, (books, drawing kit, a sufficient amount of clothes, and any disguises she may need.)

It had become a habit, to hide right under he brothers nose. She honestly surprised herself when she didn’t end up renting 221c. 

What she did was less risky, and therefore less exciting. 

She began a house share in the house across from Mary, John, and Olivia Watson’s Home. In which her brother was staying. Possibly for a while.

Her house-mate in question was a trainee nurse, at 18 years of age, beginning university in summer. Brunette, unremarkable, forgetful. Brilliant.

Enola had stopped at Pertelote’s to buy a new wig (boring and brown) and some contact lenses-green was to recognizable, so brown this time too.

Joddy was not a problem so long as he wasn’t causing trouble, and it took about three hours to get the paper work done. 1000 quid a month, split between the two of them.

She was no longer Vi Everseau, Fashion Magazine Editor/ Scientific Perditorian. Now she was Ivy Meshle, secretary to Dr. Leslie T. Ragostin. 

Risky, using that name, but at such short notice she hadn’t had time to create a new bank account, et cetera. So Ivy she was.

************************************************************************

“Yes, Mary, everything is fine. A new girl just moved in across the street, with Florence, you know, the trainee nurse? Yes, she looks nice. Brunette, I think. Came on a motorbike. Yes, Olivia is fine. Sherlock has her. Sherlock!”

“What?!”

“Mary wants to talk to you!”

“Tell her I’m busying bathing her child!”

“He says he’s busy bathing your child. I’ll text you later. Tell John hi from me.”

************************************************************************

“You let her leave?”

“Well,” Lestrade muttered, “I didn’t mean to let her leave. She… climbed out a window.”

“You’re lying.”

“Yes!” he said, “I am lying. Because she didn’t want to be found. And, truth be told, I didn’t want her found. She’s no use to society locked up in juvie, or a mental hospital. Or a boarding school.”

Mycroft Holmes rolls his eyes, “She needs to be found.”

“You aren’t looking for her anymore, I’ve been told.”

“That doesn’t mean she shouldn’t be found. Send out your men, they all know what she looks like. Quickly.”


	2. We Are Young

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tunnels, and Molly being exasperated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enola Song:
> 
> We Are Young by Fun.
> 
>  
> 
> Sherlock Song:
> 
> Merry Happy by Kate Nash
> 
>  
> 
> John Song:
> 
> The Autopsy Garland by The Mountain Goats

“I can’t believe you got me kidnapped. Again.”

“Well, I’m sorry, John. At least your child is safe.”

“Maybe safe.”

“Probably safe.”

John rolled his eyes.

“Where are we, then?”

“Somewhere under an old mental hospital. Possibly just outside London.”

“How do you know it’s a mental hospital?”

“There were tunnels under mental hospitals in the 1800s. Not so much under the medical ones.”

“Hmm. How do we get out?”

************************************************************************ 

The men came in the middle of the night- of course they did.

At first, she thought that they were Mycroft’s people; then they dragged Dr. Watson away kicking and screaming. Well, not really screaming. More a sort of muffled shouting.

She didn’t think she was in any sort of danger. Sherlock didn’t know where she was, and he’d been saying across from her for a week. 

They didn’t even let her get changed. She was wandering about some old tunnels in her pajamas (a shirt with ‘I Like Big Buns And I Cannot Lie’ and a bunny printed on it and some old boxers of Florence’s ex-boyfriend), and no shoes. 

They hadn’t even given her a goddamn fucking torch, for fucks sake.

************************************************************************ 

“Mary, tell me what happened, ok?” Donavon said, sitting down.

Mary hadn’t been crying. At least not recently, “This is DI Ragostin, I don’t think you’ve met. She works with the missing persons division.”

 

“Hi,” Mary sniffled, “I don’t know what happened. Sherlock and Molly left, late, we’d been chatting, and John went to see they got in a taxi all right. Not many come down this street. He offered to drive them, but they said no, and then he didn’t come back inside.”

“And where’s Molly?”

“With Mycroft, I think. Trying to track them down.”

“Well,” Donavon said, “We need to question her.” She looked to Ragostin, “Track her down, will you.”

************************************************************************ 

“Tell me what happened, again.”

Molly sighed. “I shouldn’t be here, Mycroft. I should be with Mary.”

Mycroft rolls his eyes, “She’ll be fine. What happened.”

“We’d just got in,” she said, again, “And he went into his bedroom for something, and I was making tea, and then I heard shouting, but the door was locked.”

“And how did you get in?”

“Through the bathroom. You know, there’s door in Sherlock’s room?” 

Mycroft nodded.

“I went through there. It was locked as well, but there’s just a bolt. Easy enough to get through.”

“Very well, Dr. Hooper. Go to ‘Mary’ and make sure she’s alright.”

************************************************************************ 

They’d knocked him over the head with something, he realized, as he tried to stand up.

He must have made a grunting noise, because John looked at him.

“You hurt?”

“Was I unconscious? I don’t remember being unconscious.”

“When they brought you down. You woke up when I started shaking you.”

He tried to nod, but it hurt his head. Wetness at the base of his skull indicated blood.

Not good.

He dug around in his pockets for his lighter. It wasn’t there.

“Where is my lighter?”

John looked around, “Haven’t seen it anywhere, mate.”

Sherlock closed his eyes and wanted to scream.

************************************************************************ 

“People have probably died in this tunnel. People might have even been tortured in this tunnel.” She said to herself, picking her way around an old chair.

She could only see a foot in front of her. Which was useless, as she needed to be able to see a way out. 

She carried on walking a few yards, before her foot hit something metal, and square.

************************************************************************ 

“I cannot have lost my lighter!”  
“What is the big deal about your lighter? So we can’t see, it’s not like that’s never happened before.”

They ended up walking a few feet before Sherlock almost fell over. The head wound was worse than he was making out, John knew, but he couldn’t see, and he didn’t bother asking.

Sherlock was grumbling and checking his pockets again. “Sherlock, let me support you, we can make it out of here before you pass out again.”

Sherlock muttered something about not passing out, and stood.

************************************************************************ 

She bent down to pick whatever it was up, but she knew what it was before her hands touched it.

It was Sherry’s lighter.

************************************************************************ 

It took ten minutes for Sherlock’s legs to go so wobbly that he couldn’t stand, even with the support of his friend.

“Your head is bleeding, isn’t it?” 

“Yep.”

“I need to see to tell how bad it is.”

“Well, I can’t stand. I’d say it’s pretty bad.”

************************************************************************ 

She flicked the lighter on.

The letters SH stood out, engraved into the metal.

She took a deep breath, tucked some hair which had escaped from her plait behind her ear, and began to walk forwards.

************************************************************************ 

His head was actually pulsing. Which is never a good thing. 

“I think I can get up now.”

John had been sitting next him, whispering some words of comfort for a while now. Sometimes he really did love his best friend.

************************************************************************ 

A few feet, then a few feet more, and she found some light that wasn’t coming from her lighter.

A grate, with what looked like grass poking through the holes.

It happened to be at that moment that she heard a bang come from somewhere else in the tunnel, followed by something talking and someone else groaning.

It wasn’t a loud bang. Not a gun shot. More like someone had fallen over.

************************************************************************ 

“Sherlock, I can’t carry you. Not on my own. I’ll go find someone to help, we’ll come back and get you, ok?”

“No!” he almost shouted, “You might get lost. Don’t. I’ll be fine.”

Really, it was just that he didn’t want to die from a head wound, in a dark tunnel, alone.

************************************************************************ 

She started making her way towards the noise. It hadn’t been far; maybe a few feet at the most.

She kept moving until she came across them. They hadn’t noticed her, or the light, but they would in a moment.

Enola took a moment to stare at her brother before he did the same.


End file.
